


One Step Closer to Being Two Steps Far From You

by accordingtomel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtomel/pseuds/accordingtomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek leaves Beacon Hills for the second time in as many years, Stiles kind of gets it. Derek’s been through far more shit than anyone Stiles knows -- he figures Derek will take some time to lick his wounds, screw his head back on straight, and be back by the time the next supernatural threat descends on them. Because Derek always comes back. It’s what he does. So when he sees the “For Sale” sign on the loft nearly two months later without a single word from Derek, Stiles is <i>pissed</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Closer to Being Two Steps Far From You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenna_sais_pas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_sais_pas/gifts).



> Hey cashewkitty, I had a lot of fun writing this fic for you. I know you wanted something post season 5a, so I hope you enjoy this! I wasn't able to include a lot of your other suggestions, but I did try to touch on Derek and Stiles helping each other heal. And there's a bit of angst, but it's largely fluff.
> 
> Huge thank you to J, for the cheerleading, the beta, the hand-holding, and the reassurances that I could actually finish this thing! Any additional mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, the title comes from a line in the song "Infinity" by One Direction, because I'm cool like that.

When Derek leaves Beacon Hills for the second time in as many years, Stiles kind of gets it. Derek’s been through far more shit than anyone Stiles knows -- he figures Derek will take some time to lick his wounds, screw his head back on straight, and be back by the time the next supernatural threat descends on them. Because Derek always comes back. It’s what he does. So when he sees the “For Sale” sign on the loft nearly two months later without a single word from Derek, Stiles is _pissed_.

Stiles manages to sit on this information for approximately one and a half days before he -- in a fit of sleep-deprived rage -- calls Derek’s phone to yell at him. Naturally, Derek doesn’t answer. But that doesn’t stop Stiles from leaving a piece of his mind on Derek’s answering machine instead.

“Hey, asshole. So, I was driving past your loft the other day and saw the “Sold” sign. I didn’t even know it had been up for sale to begin with. Good to know that you decided _not_ to come back to Beacon Hills without telling anyone. I mean, I get it. You’ve been through a lot, but I thought you were beyond the whole running away thing. Obviously I was wrong. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that you’re a massive dick.”

Stiles slams his finger on the red disconnect button on his phone as if that might somehow help convey his frustration, even though he knows it won’t.

Guilt seeps in almost instantaneously at the message he’d just left, but it’s already too late to take it back. Stiles is pissed right off, but it doesn’t change the fact that Derek needs to take care of himself first and foremost. And if getting the hell out of dodge is what’s best for him, then Stiles would never actually want to get in the way of that. He’d just expected Derek to return, and the fact that he’s clearly not planning on it doesn’t sit quite right with Stiles, for some reason.

Whatever. There’s nothing he can do about that voicemail now anyway. Instead, Stiles rolls over in bed and promptly falls asleep.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t hear anything back.

~*~

It’s another week before Stiles decides to try calling Derek again.

He’s eating lunch with his friends when Kira casually asks Scott if he’s heard anything from Derek recently. Stiles’ heart kicks up a beat at the question, and Scott gives him an inquisitive look from across the table. But he doesn’t mention it as he informs the group that he hasn’t. That ever present sense of guilt that Stiles has been carrying around with him since the Nogitsune kicks into overdrive again as he remembers the words he’d left on Derek’s voicemail.

Stiles tries to push it down, but after a few minutes, he gives up, knowing it’s a lost cause. He excuses himself from the lunch table and makes his way across the school grounds, far enough that he’s out of supernatural earshot.

When he’s reasonably sure that none of them will be able to hear him, Stiles thumbs through his contacts until he reaches Derek’s number.

For a brief moment, Stiles panics about the possibility of Derek actually answering his phone. What the hell would he say? Would Derek even give him the time of day, or would he immediately hang up on him? Thankfully he doesn’t find out, as Derek’s voicemail picks up instead.

“Okay, dude, so I want you to know that you’re still an asshole. But I was maybe a little harsh in my last message. It’s probably for the best that you sold the loft anyway. Look… you’d better be taking care of yourself, okay? ‘Cause I’m not chasing down your wolfy ass in Mexico again.” It’s a lie, Stiles knows it’s a lie before the words are even out of his mouth, but he just hopes his heartbeat doesn’t come through the line. “Anyway, don’t get yourself killed. Use your words, not your claws. And, like… don’t be a stranger.”

Stiles hangs up, staring down at the screen like it has some answers for him. It doesn’t. But he feels better at least, so that’s something.

~*~

Stiles is out with his dad for their recently resurrected, regularly scheduled Sunday brunch. It was something they used to do all the time when he was still a deputy and Stiles’ mom was alive. No matter how busy they all got during the week, it was always their one chance to reconnect and catch up with one another. His parents used to let him order whatever he wanted on the menu, and Stiles -- despite being a constant bundle of energy -- had always been on his best behavior.

After Stiles’ mom passed away, Sunday morning brunches became less and less frequent until they finally stopped altogether a few years after her death. However, after shit started going down with the supernatural world in Beacon Hills, and Stiles’ dad finally clued in to what was going on, they both decided that maybe it was time to bring back that particular tradition once more.

They’re currently at a little local diner a few blocks from the Sheriff’s department. It has fantastic curly fries, and they also offer turkey bacon as an option with breakfast meals, so it’s a win-win all around, as far as Stiles is concerned. 

He’s perusing the menu, even though he almost always orders the same thing, when he notices that there’s a kid’s menu stuck in between the regular menu pages. Which, rude. Stiles is almost 18, man, that’s just insulting. Except a comic on the bottom left corner catches his eye, and Stiles ends up laughing to himself instead. It’s a picture of a wolf and a sheep wearing t-shirts, with the sheep asking the wolf if that’s his shirt. It’s incredibly cliche and silly, and probably over the heads of the kids who are going to read it. Yet Stiles finds it amusing, in spite of himself.

It makes him think of Derek, actually. Which is something that’s been happening more and more lately. Stiles tries not to analyze it too much. He wonders, idly, if Derek would laugh at the comic, or roll his eyes and look at Stiles like he’s a moron. He’d probably huff, like he’s annoyed that Stiles would think his humor is so lame, but would be secretly amused. Very minimally, and very deep down inside. Derek is actually a softie at heart, even if he tries to pretend that he’s not.

Against his better judgment, Stiles pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the comic. He then sends it to Derek with the caption: _quality pun_

“Who are you texting?”

“No one?”

Stiles’ dad raises his eyebrows, smirking slightly. “So, you took a picture of nothing... to send to no one...”

“Yup,” Stiles says, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously.

Shrugging his shoulders, Stiles’s dad returns his attention to his menu, like it doesn’t matter to him at all who Stiles is actually texting. And it shouldn’t, it normally doesn’t, but for some inexplicable reason, it makes Stiles want to be honest with him, even though it’s _nothing_.

“Fine. I’m texting Derek.”

That gets his attention. “Derek _Hale_?”

“No, Derek Smith.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Of course Derek Hale. How many other Dereks do I know?”

“I thought he left town.”

“He did,” Stiles says carefully.

“But you’re still in contact with him?”

“Kind of?”

His dad shoots him a skeptical look. “How can you be ‘kind of’ still in contact with someone?”

“It’s mostly me just messaging him.”

“Okay. Not to be a downer, son, but how do you know he’s even getting your messages?”

Stiles shrugs, runs a finger down the condensation in his water glass. “Because the texts are going through. Which probably doesn’t mean that much. But his voicemail isn’t full, so...” He decides not to mention the fact that he’s left enough messages to fill it several times over, but he thinks his dad gets what he’s not saying anyway.

They continue to eat their breakfast in silence for a few moments, before Stiles’ dad finally speaks up again. “I hope he’s taking care of himself.”

Stiles meets his eyes over his cup of coffee and nods once, decisive. “Yeah. Me too.”

~*~

After that, it sort of becomes a thing. Texts, voicemails, the occasional picture. Derek never responds to any of them, but there’s still something oddly reassuring about the whole thing. The texts always go through, the pictures always send, and voicemail never informs him that the mailbox is full. Maybe it’s his way of knowing that Derek’s still okay. He has to be if his phone is still working and he’s checking his voicemail, right? At least that’s what Stiles tells himself.

~*~

It’s not that he plans on going back to the senior shelf or anything. It just sort of happens. He’d made plans with Lydia to meet at the library, so it’s not like Stiles doesn’t have a reason to be there, but after signing his initials that morning, he can’t get the image of the ‘D.H.’ out of his mind.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Stiles snaps a picture -- careful to crop out any evidence that he’d written his own initials right beside Derek’s -- and sends it to Derek in a text, along with the words: _saw this today on our senior shelf in the library… everyone signs it at the beginning of their senior year._

Stiles checks the time to make sure he’s not going to be late meeting up with Lydia, then locks the screen and shoves his phone into his pocket. He hefts his backpack over his shoulder, sparing one last look at the initials ‘D.H’, knowing that they probably weren’t written by Derek, but somehow wanting them to be his anyway.

The phone vibrates in his pocket, signalling a new message. Stiles shakes his head, fishing it out of his jeans, expecting the text to be from Lydia. But it’s not.

**From: Derek (3:44)**  
_You know those aren’t my initials, right?_

Stiles gasps audibly at the text on his screen, not quite sure if he can believe what he’s seeing. A myriad of emotions rushes through him in that moment, from shock to relief to anger to excitement. Stiles has been contacting Derek for _months_ with no response, no word that he’s alive, not even a single ‘I’m fine’ or ‘yes’ or anything equally simple and well within Derek’s capabilities. And _this_ is finally the thing that elicits a response from him? 

Naturally, Stiles decides to completely ignore what his brain is telling him to say -- something along the lines of ‘are you doing okay?’ or ‘I’m glad you’re still alive’ or even ‘why the hell haven’t you replied until now?’ -- and goes for the cheap joke instead.

**To: Derek (3:47)**  
_why, did you change your name? what was it? hortencious? raymond? stuart? please tell me it wasn’t stuart._

It takes Derek a good 5 minutes to respond, but it feels more like an hour. Patience has never been Stiles’ strong suit. Just when he’s starting to think that maybe he fucked up his only chance at reconnecting with Derek again, his phone buzzes in his hand. 

It’s probably embarrassing how quickly Stiles swipes across his screen to read the text, but thankfully no one is there to witness his private shame.

**From: Derek (3:53)**  
_I mean, I didn’t write that. Obviously they’re my initials._

**To: Derek (3:54)**  
_because you were in new york._

**From: Derek (3:54)**  
_Yes._

Stiles bites on his lower lip, briefly contemplates whether or not to ask the follow-up question he’s now dying to know. But Derek’s actually talking to him, so Stiles decides to just screw it and ask anyway, consequences be damned.

**To: Derek (3:55)**  
_but you did graduate though?_

And then, because he feels like a bit of an asshole for the comment: _not that it would be bad if you haven’t. i mean, it would be totally reasonable if you hadn’t either, dude._

**From: Derek (3:57)**  
_Yes, Stiles. I even went to college._

This is the most information Derek has ever shared with Stiles about his past, and his personal life. Stiles isn’t sure why he’s being honored with the information now, but it does feel like just that: an honor. They had a sort of tentative friendship going before Derek left last time, but they were never the type of people to sit around and talk about feelings or their lives. 

**From: Derek (3:59)**  
_Also, Hortencious, Stiles? Really?_

Stiles swallows, feels a smile unexpectedly tug at his lips, and decides not to try to hold it back this time. 

**To: Derek (4:01)**  
_that’s a great name. what are you even talking about? hortencious hale has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?_

Derek doesn’t actually reply this time, but Stiles likes to think that he was secretly entertained by Stiles’ antics, anyway. And if Lydia happens to notice Stiles’ slightly more optimistic mood, she doesn’t comment on it. 

~*~

Texting Derek -- and more importantly, Derek texting him back -- becomes something of a regular occurrence after that point. It’s not like they’re constantly texting back and forth, and it’s never anything overly personal, but Derek does offer more information and more helpful suggestions than he ever has before. Stiles is not sure when Derek and Braeden parted ways, but he gets the sense that Derek’s been traveling alone for at least the last couple weeks now. He’s admittedly curious, but keeps the questions to himself. They’ve got a tentative friendship-like thing going on here, and Stiles surprisingly doesn’t want to mess it up.

What does surprise him, however, is when Derek takes his concerns about Theo to heart. 

**From: Derek (9:26)**  
_Tell me more. Why are you suspicious?_

So Stiles does. In excruciating detail. Every single thing that’s raised a red flag in Stiles’ mind since Theo’s sudden reappearance in their lives. Once he’s done, and has taken a moment to re-read his stockpile of evidence, Stiles wonders if maybe he _is_ making more out of this than he should.

Except instead of shutting him down, like Stiles is half expecting, Derek surprises him by agreeing that something seems off about Theo.

**From: Derek (10:14)**  
_I think you’re right to be concerned. It’s hard to guess what he could be up to. It may be nothing, but you’ve always been a good judge of character. You should trust your intuition and be careful just in case, Stiles._

It makes him feel better, having Derek as not only a friend, but an ally. And to know that Derek trusts his judgement, doesn’t think Stiles is out of his mind, is such an incredible relief. All the same, he hopes he’s wrong about Theo, and that Scott was justified in trusting him.

~*~

In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have been a surprise that Theo managed to turn Scott against him. From the very beginning Stiles had known Theo was up to something. But for all of his suspicions and doubts, this was the one result that he’d truly never anticipated. Maybe that was at least partially on Stiles though. Just because he’d always supported and stood up for Scott didn’t necessarily mean that it went both ways, that he deserved the same consideration in return.

It’s been almost two hours since his confrontation with Scott, and Stiles hasn’t managed to do much beyond strip out of his wet clothes and curl up on the floor at the end of his bed. Scott’s words ring in Stiles’ ears, over and over again, like a mantra designed to torture him. Maybe he really is the monster Scott believes him to be. It’s frighteningly effective. The room is dark, the house empty, save for Stiles, and he has never felt so alone in his entire life.

It feels natural for Stiles to pull out his phone to text Derek. Except texting isn’t going to suffice this time. He needs to actually talk to Derek, preferably face-to-face, but even over the phone is better than nothing.

After a moment’s hesitation, Stiles shoots off a quick message to Derek -- _i really need to talk to you._ \-- then closes his eyes again, and prepares to wait.

It takes Derek less than five minutes to call him, the sound of the ring startling Stiles in the silence of his bedroom.

Derek doesn’t even wait for Stiles to say anything after he picks up. 

“Stiles? What happened? Are you okay?”

He already sounds on edge, which says a lot, considering this is the first time Stiles has heard Derek’s voice in months. For all the times they’ve talked with one another since Derek left, it’s always been restricted to text, and he’s angry that he can’t even appreciate the actual significance of this moment. Stiles takes a deep breath, works at fighting back his slowly building anxiety instead.

“ _Stiles_!”

“What?”

“Are you okay? Talk to me.”

Stiles closes his eyes, sighs, and answers honestly. “No.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you? What’s going on?”

“No, I’m not hurt.” _At least not physically_ , he thinks wryly. “I’m at home.”

Derek makes a soft huffing noise. “Stiles. What happened?” he asks again, still surprisingly patient, for Derek.

It takes several moments for Stiles to build up the courage to come out with it, but even when he feels ready, the words still come out shaky.

“I killed someone.”

Shame and guilt once again washes over Stiles the moment the words leave his mouth, and he mentally braces himself for Derek’s reaction. He doesn’t think anything could hurt as much as Scott not believing in him, but at this point, he’s half expecting Derek to agree.

“Okay. Tell me what happened,” Derek says. 

It’s not what Stiles is expecting to hear, but if Derek’s actually asking, maybe he’ll at least listen to what Stiles has to say. So, Stiles tell him everything. He tells Derek what happened, how Donovan threatened his dad, how Stiles hadn’t had a choice, how Donovan’s death had been an accident. How he’d been confronted by Scott, and how Scott thought Stiles had murdered Donovan in cold blood. Derek listens throughout, only occasionally interrupting to clarify something that Stiles says.

“Am I a monster?” is how he finally finishes, voice barely above a whisper.

Derek doesn’t hesitate for even a second. “Of course not.”

“Scott thinks I am,” Stiles says, gut twisting at the words.

“I doubt that’s what he really thinks.”

“I’m pretty sure he does, actually.” Stiles closes his eyes again, leans his head against his mattress and wishes, not for the first time, that none of this had ever happened.

“Then he’s an idiot.”

That shocks a laugh out of Stiles, but it’s half bitter, half disbelieving.

“I’m serious, Stiles,” Derek asserts. “Scott can’t honestly believe that. And if he does, then I’ve severely overestimated him.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to even say to that. Nothing makes sense any more. Regardless of whether it was an accident or on purpose, Stiles killed someone. Scott, his longest and closest friend in the world, thinks he’s guilty. And Derek, his former enemy turned ally-slash-friend, is now Stiles’ biggest support system.

“Stiles, you’re not a monster. I know monsters. I’ve _been_ one, I’ve dealt with them, I’ve been been hurt by them, and I’ve still managed to come out on the other side.” Stiles’ chest hurts when he thinks of all the awful, unfair shit that Derek’s had to deal with in his life. It’s so much worse than anything Stiles has ever had to go through himself, and he feels a pang of guilt for dragging Derek down into this with him. 

“What happened was a product of shitty circumstances and ulterior motives outside of your control, Stiles. You did what you had to do, and you had the courage to make a difficult decision. That’s so much harder than doing nothing, or refusing to make a decision at all. But you. Are not. A monster. That I can promise you.”

Stiles has no reason to believe him. Except for the fact that Derek also has no reason to lie to him either.

~*~

Somehow, life goes on. For a while, it’s a continuous shit show at almost every turn, and Stiles hasn’t exactly been able to count on his usual support network in Beacon Hills, which makes everything that much more difficult. But somehow, the pack manages to deal with the wild hunt and the dread doctors. Theo is finally dead (good riddance, as far as Stiles is concerned), and Stiles is no longer an accidental murderer.

There is peace once again in Beacon Hills, though god only knows how long that will last.

If there’s one thing Stiles has learned, however, it’s that he should always expect the unexpected. _Always_.

At least this time the surprise is a good one, though he’s not completely sure that this isn’t some wonderful dream. Because when his doorbell had rung a few minutes ago, he was greeted by the last person Stiles ever expected to see on his doorstep.

“Derek?”

The words catch in his throat, his heart rate increasing as he tries to comprehend what’s happening. He can’t quite believe that he’s actually seeing Derek Hale, in the flesh, standing in front of his face. Stiles gestures for him to come inside, and closes the door behind him, though neither make any attempt to move away from the doorway.

Derek frowns at him, reaches out like he wants to touch Stiles, but catches himself, running a hand through his hair instead. He looks good. Healthy. His hair is a little longer than Stiles remembers, beard thick but well groomed. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that fit him well, and a soft, dark green sweater. It’s a damn good look on Derek, if Stiles says so himself. But mostly he’s just happy to see him.

“Stiles, are you okay?”

It’s a loaded question, at best. But he gets the sense that Derek is trying to get at something else.

“Yeah. I mean, not really, but I guess as much as I can be.” He shrugs, glancing down at his feet for a moment before meeting Derek’s gaze. “But, like, what are you doing here?”

“I was already on my way back the last time we talked,” Derek says, pushing his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans. “Shit was going down and I knew it was where I needed to be. I’m just sorry I didn’t get here in time.”

Stiles waves a hand in his direction. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man. We managed to survive without you.”

It comes out a lot worse than it sounded in his head, and Stiles cringes internally. But Derek doesn’t seem to notice the unintentional barb.

“Apparently,” he says, though not unkindly.

“So, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, dude, ‘cause this is the best surprise I’ve had in a long time, but why are you here?” At Derek’s slightly confused expression, Stiles clarifies. “I mean here at my house, specifically.”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he says, like that’s the only explanation he needs.

Which, right… He’d needed a break from everyone and everything for a few days.

“Jesus… Fuck. I’m sorry. I just needed some time away from everyone, so I turned it off. I didn’t even think...”

Stiles feels like a bit of a jackass.

“I was coming back anyway,” Derek says with a shrug, just this side of too casual. “But when I didn’t hear anything from you, I thought maybe something had happened. So I… needed to make sure that it hadn’t,” Derek says, matter-of-factly, no trace of anger, only concern.

“You were worried about me.” It isn’t a question, because Derek’s made it pretty clear that this is exactly what he’s getting at. But Stiles is having a hard time wrapping his mind around it anyway.

Derek, for his part, doesn’t even try to deny it. Says the word with such ease and conviction that Stiles feels something clench in his chest. “Yes.”

~*~

Derek stays. Stiles doesn’t even have to work hard to convince him.

Just an offer of pizza and Netflix. Which must speak to just how worried he actually is about Stiles. Or it’s just been a really long time since they’ve been in the same room at the same time and Derek currently has an increased tolerance for Stiles’ everything. Maybe a little of both.

“So,” Stiles says, once they’ve settled on opposite ends of the couch with drinks and some snacks to tide them over until the pizza arrives. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

Stiles bites back what he actually wants to say, because it’s all kinds of wildly inappropriate. All he knows for sure is that Derek came back because he was concerned about everyone here. Though if he’s being honest with himself, it was probably due more to Stiles influence than anything else. Which, if that’s the case, there’s so much more meaning behind his gesture today that Stiles doesn’t know how to even begin processing any of it. 

“Are you just here for a quick visit, or?”

“No, not just to visit.”

 _Good._ “Okay.” Stiles fiddles with the remote while Derek picks at an invisible thread on his jeans.

“I honestly hadn’t thought much beyond getting here. But I don’t plan on leaving any time soon, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Something tight in Stiles’ chest loosens at the reassurance. There was a time, not too long ago, when this information would have been inconsequential to Stiles. He’s not dumb enough to pretend that’s still the case now, though.

“I’m glad,” he says. And then in a moment of boldness, adds, “I missed you.” It’s a lot easier to admit than he would’ve expected. Probably because it’s true. He _had_ missed Derek, more than he ever thought he would.

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at Stiles in acknowledgement, looking at him with what Stiles thinks might be fondness.

Once the pizza arrives, with Derek absolutely insisting on paying for it -- (“Dude, what are you doing?” “I’m paying for the pizza, what does it look like?” “Oh my God, I’m the one who invited you to stay, the least you could let me do is pay.” “Yeah… how about no?”) -- they settle into a companionable sort of silence as they eat. Stiles turns on Netflix and they queue up Brooklyn Nine-Nine, because he doesn’t think he can handle anything more intense right now.

Stiles figures that he owes Derek an explanation for ignoring his phone for so long, but Derek doesn’t press, and Stiles finds he doesn’t want to talk about it right now anyway. Instead, he asks Derek about where he’s been, and learns that he’s traveled all over the country, but has spent the last six weeks down in South America with Cora.

“How is she?”

Derek shrugs. “Happy. She likes it down there. It’s a good place for her.”

“And you?”

“It was good to visit her. But it’s not where I belong.”

 _Where do you belong?_ Stiles wonders. So he asks. 

“I don’t know,” Derek says after a moment’s contemplation. “But I think I’m getting closer to figuring that out.”

Stiles nods, but doesn’t push any further than that for now.

Somewhere between Thanksgiving and the Pontiac Bandit, Stiles feels himself start to drift off. Derek’s still sitting right next to him, not close enough to touch, but close enough Stiles can feel the heat from Derek’s body. It should be distracting -- it would have been 6 months ago -- but instead it just seems to settle something inside Stiles. Like he can actually breathe for once. Derek’s acting like everything's normal, and it’s not. It’s so not even a little bit normal. But the air around them isn’t filled with tension. It doesn’t suffocate Stiles with the weight of all of his failings, and that’s more than he’s had in a long time now

So, instead of fighting sleep like he’s done so many times over the past year, he gives in to the peacefulness of it. And before long, Stiles is drifting off.

He doesn’t dream. He sleeps.

~*~

Stiles wakes slowly to the sound of voices talking in hushed tones. He feels something soft and warm against his cheek, doesn’t remember it being there when he fell asleep. It takes Stiles a moment to realize that his pillow is actually Derek’s shoulder, and he feels his face warm in embarrassment as he sits up.

“Good morning,” Stiles’ dad says, and Stiles feels a spike of panic rush through him. Had he really spent the entire night sleeping on Derek’s shoulder? Jesus.

“Morning?”

Stiles wipes at his eyes. He’s still so exhausted. It can’t possibly be morning yet.

“I guess that depends on what time you consider morning.”

Stiles eyes dart between his father and Derek. Who, actually, is still pressed up against his side. Stiles tries not to think about it; he’s got other things to focus on right now.

“I… don’t know?”

“It’s 1:10 am. I just got home from work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” Stiles says, glancing carefully over at Derek instead of addressing his father.

“It’s fine. You seemed tired,” Derek says, lips pulling up into something resembling a smile. At least for Derek. He turns his attention back to Stiles’s dad. “Sorry. I should get going.”

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s nice to see you back in town. I hope you stick around for awhile.”

His dad holds out his hand, and Derek leans forward to shake it.

“Same here, sir.”

“Well, I’ve had a long shift. I’m going to bed. Night, boys.”

And without another word or a glance back at them, he makes his way up the stairs, mumbling to himself. Stiles frowns at his dad’s retreating back before standing and following Derek across the room.

“Hey, look, I don’t know… I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you again, and I just.” Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair. He’s having the conversation with his feet, but it’s the best he can manage right now. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. But you’re welcome.”

Derek reaches out, then, grips Stiles’ shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze, before dropping his hand and disappearing out the front door.

~*~

The fact that Stiles has been actively avoiding Scott since they dealt with the dread doctors finally seems to catch up with him, when Scott corners him at his locker before the end of the day, asking if they can talk. Soon. About “things” (aka the elephant in the room that’s been there for far too long without actually being addressed).

It was working well, but it’s apparently starting to become a bit of a problem. At least in Scott’s mind, from what Stiles can tell. They haven’t really had the opportunity to talk much since their confrontation over Donovan, which is the longest period of time they’ve gone without speaking to one another since the dawn of their friendship. But at the end of the day, Scott still thought Stiles was capable of cold-blooded murder of his own accord, and that is not something Stiles can overlook.

The problem is that to Stiles, it’s becoming less and less of a problem with each passing day. Does he miss his best friend? Absolutely. But for the first time in his life, Stiles is coming to the realization that maybe Stiles cares more about Scott than Scott cares about him. It’s been a difficult journey to reach this point, but Stiles is starting to think that maybe the signs were always there, but he just refused to accept them. 

Friendships change, sometimes they grow stronger and other times people drift apart. Stiles knows this, has experienced it in his life even very recently, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Especially with a friendship that he assumed would always be there. He thinks that Scott will always be his friend, hopes he will be, but maybe things won’t go back to the way they were before. Maybe they really don’t know each other as well as they always thought they did.

Things have been easier on Stiles since Derek’s return to Beacon Hills too. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine himself becoming so close to Derek, and yet, here they are. Sitting down for dinner together, after Stiles texted Derek, saying he needed his advice. Stiles is living in a fucking parallel universe of his former life. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.

“So, what the hell should I do?” Stiles pulls the wrapper off of his straw, tossing it aside, and sticks the straw into his newly refilled lemonade glass. 

He and Derek are at the same diner Stiles frequents with his dad on their Sunday brunches. Surprisingly, it had been Derek’s suggestion.

“Well, what do _you_ want to do?”

Stiles huffs out a sigh. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it. “I don’t know. I want to go back in time and have Scott believe that I’m not a murderer.”

“And since that isn’t actually an option…?”

“Why are you so difficult?”

Derek smirks at him for a second, and it’s honestly kind of breathtaking. He really, truly needs to smile more often, Stiles thinks. It’s a good look on him.

“It’s called being realistic, Stiles. I assumed when you asked me for advice, you wanted, you know, _real_ advice.”

“Okay, yes, fine. I did. What do I do?”

Derek considers him for a moment. “All right, well do you really want to end your friendship with Scott?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He thought I killed someone in cold blood, Derek.” It still kind of blows Stiles’ mind, if he’s being honest with himself. “My best friend looked me in the eyes, listened to me plead with him, and then chose the side of a virtual stranger anyway. How do I move past that?”

Derek sighs, like he’s frustrated. But Stiles doesn’t think it’s with him. “I know. But you haven’t even talked to him yet or given him a chance to explain himself. You have no idea what he wants to say to you.”

Which, fair. He’ll give Derek that.

Stiles reaches over and snags a fry from Derek’s plate, dunking it in ketchup on the way to his mouth.

“So you think I should talk to him then?”

“I think you should do what you think is best,” Derek starts, then hesitates before adding, “But I’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Stiles nods, knows he made the right choice in calling Derek after all.

~*~

Two days later, Stiles meets up with Scott to talk about everything. It’s a tough conversation, one that’s awkward in a way that they’ve never had to deal with before. There are apologies on both ends, as well as tears, but they don’t quite reach a resolution. After talking for over an hour, they decide to continue again another day. It’s the first time Stiles has ever left a conversation with Scott without working things out, and it’s hard. In a lot of ways, it’s been a long time coming, so instinctively Stiles knows that it’s not something that they can immediately resolve.

The moment Stiles gets into his Jeep, he pulls his phone out and shoots Derek a simple text that reads: _come over?_ He doesn’t wait for a response, just tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and heads for home.

Derek pulls up to the house just as Stiles is unlocking the front door. With a nod of acknowledgement, Stiles pushes his way inside, Derek trailing after him. 

“So, how did things go with Scott?” Derek asks after Stiles has grabbed them both sodas and a snack of chips and salsa.

Stiles shrugs, plopping down on a chair across from Derek. “It was okay, I guess?”

“Are you back to being best friends again?”

“It’s not really that simple.” Stiles reaches out to grab a chip.

Derek nods like he gets it. Probably because he does. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Obviously Stiles asked him to come over for a reason, but Stiles appreciates the fact that he’s not pushing. It’s one of the many things about Derek that Stiles is thankful for.

“He’s sorry. Like genuinely sorry. He said he feels like a total dick,” Stiles says. It should make him happy that Scott was so generally apologetic about his actions. And it does, in some ways, except...

“But that’s not really the issue, is it?” Derek suggests. It’s almost like he read Stiles’ mind. Or, maybe he just really does know Stiles that well. It’s an interesting thought.

“No, not really.”

Derek nods, taking a sip of his soda, and gestures for Stiles to continue.

“I just don’t think that he gets it. It’s like he blames Theo for everything, and obviously he contributed to the situation. But it’s just…” Stiles sighs, trying to put his thoughts together coherently. “I don’t know that he’s actually taking any responsibility for his actions, or the choices that he freely made?”

“I think Scott has good intentions most of the time, but he doesn’t see the world the way we do,” Derek says. He meets Stiles’ gaze across the table. “His thinking is more black and white. It’s hard for him to see the areas of grey. So he doesn’t always connect the consequences to his actions.”

Stiles considers this before nodding. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Stile shrugs. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to lose his friendship over this. So I’m going to keep trying, and hopefully he will too.”

Derek smiles at him for a moment. “He’d be a fool to give up on you,” he says, voice painfully sincere.

It’s possible that Derek is a little bit biased with respect to Stiles these days, but the comment fills him with warmth anyway, and he finds himself unexpectedly flushing in response.

“Anyway, it’s fine,” Stiles says quickly. “Or at least it’ll be fine in time.” And then, because he doesn’t have any place to hide, he downs the rest of his soda instead.

~*~

Derek sticks around after that, offers to help make dinner. And because Stiles enjoys Derek’s company way too much these days, he readily agrees. They’re both moving around each other in the kitchen like they’ve been doing this for years when Stiles’s dad returns home from work.

“Hey, Stiles. Derek,” he says as he enters the kitchen. “It smells great in here.”

“Thanks! Derek offered to help with dinner tonight,” Stiles announces, unnecessarily, as he moves around his dad with a stack of plates and cups.

“Hi Sheriff,” Derek says carefully from the oven where he’s still cooking the rice to go with their stir-fry. 

“I told you to call me John, son,” his dad says, and Stiles’ heart trips over itself for a second. “Do you need any help with anything?”

“We’re good,” Derek answers for them both, though he shoots Stiles an inquisitive look. “Unless Stiles needs help setting the table?”

“Nope, it’s already done,” Stiles calls from the dining room. “All you need to do is eat.”

Despite helping to make the food, Derek still tries to leave them alone for dinner, but neither Stilinski man is on board with that plan.

“You helped cook. You’re going to stay,” Stiles’ dad says.

And that’s that.

Dinner is a pleasant affair, which is frankly a little surprising to Stiles, considering their collective history. But ever since Derek went above and beyond to help out during the whole Nogitsune fiasco, his dad has been considerably more positive about Stiles’ connection to him. Plus, Derek seems to have mellowed out some since his return to Beacon Hills. Stiles has seen him smile and talk more in the last few months than in the previous two years of knowing him combined.

Of course, because this is his life, the pleasantries can only last long enough to give Stiles a false sense of security.

“So, Derek,” Stiles’ dad starts, “you’ve been back for a couple months now. Does that mean you’re planning to stick around for awhile?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Derek says, actually reaching up to scratch his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.” And then Stiles’ dad gestures towards him. “I’m sure Stiles feels the same, don’t you son?”

Stiles coughs, tries to ignore the heat pricking at the back of his neck, and manages to choke out a, “Yeah.”

His dad’s attention remains focused on Derek. “Does that mean you plan to find a place of your own? Maybe think about getting a job?”

“Dad! Oh my god!” Stiles says, horrified.

Derek’s posture tenses for a brief moment, but then he nods. “I have an appointment with a real estate agent in a few days to see what the market is like.”

“Great,” his dad says with a smile. “And what about finding a job? Or looking into college? Do you have any plans for either of those things?”

“You can’t just _say_ things like that, Dad,” Stiles groans, resting his forehead on the table dramatically.

“I’m asking out of friendly concern, Stiles, calm down,” his dad says, like this isn’t mortifying either way.

“It’s okay, Stiles. They’re fair enough questions,” Derek says. Beneath the table he feels Derek’s foot press gently against his for a moment, and Stiles lifts his head to stare at him.

But Derek doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. “I was actually only a couple classes away from getting a degree in Criminology back when I was in New York. But then…” He trails off, and Stiles has the urge to reach out and touch Derek. “Anyway, I got distracted for awhile. But I think I’d like to finish that degree now that things are more settled.”

Stiles’s dad’s eyes are shining, and Stiles knows that Derek’s definitely said the right thing. “You know, we could use someone with your knowledge and expertise down at the station as a consultant, while you finish up your degree.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely consider that,” Derek says with a soft smile that sort of melts Stiles’ heart. He doesn’t need to have supernatural hearing to know that Derek’s being serious about the offer, though.

~*~

Derek applies for a job at Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department a few days later. Stiles isn’t sure who’s more excited about it: Stiles or his dad. Either way, it’s a pleasant turn of events.

~*~

A week after Derek’s dinner at the Stilinski house, he texts Stiles on a Saturday morning, asking him if he wants to go with Derek to look at houses. It’s the first he’s mentioned of getting an actual place, and despite the reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, a sense of relief settles over Stiles with this new knowledge. Derek really does plan to stick around Beacon Hills this time, and it makes Stiles feel light and content in a way he never expected to feel around Derek (but is also starting to become a near daily occurrence at the same time).

Since it’s the weekend, and Stiles doesn’t have any other plans (or at least nothing more enjoyable than spending time with Derek), he decides it’s as good a plan as any. Derek says he’ll be by in half an hour, which gives Stiles just enough time to take a quick shower and eat something resembling breakfast.

He’s in the middle of wolfing down a piece of toast while simultaneously trying to pour a travel mug of coffee for the road when his dad walks into the kitchen.

“You’re up bright and early for a Saturday,” he says, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got places to go, people to see,” Stiles says between bites.

His dad raises his eyebrows, and pours a cup of coffee. “What places and people might those be?”

“Use milk, not cream,” Stiles says, grabbing the can of cream from his dad’s hands. “And I’m going out with Derek.”

His dad scowls at him, but reluctantly accepts the milk from Stiles’ hand, adding some to his coffee. “What are you guys up to today?”

“We’re going house hunting.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you two were so close,” his dad says, overly casual in a way that usually leads to suspicion on Stiles part. “Isn’t it a little soon to be buying a house together, though? I know you’re 18 now, but you haven’t even finished high school yet.”

Stiles chokes on air. He feels his face flush instantly, warmth running from the tips of his ears down the back of his neck, and he ducks his head in a vain attempt to hide his obvious embarrassment.

“Dad! Oh my god! Don’t even say that.”

“Why?” 

_Why?_ What the hell kind of question is that? “Because-- it implies… things. Things that aren’t true?” 

“They aren’t?” And then, “Are you blushing?”

“Holy, god-- _no_ ,” Stiles sputters. Which, naturally, only makes him blush even harder. Jesus Christ.

“Is there something you need to tell me about you two?”

The room feels about 50 degrees hotter than it had a few seconds ago, and Stiles wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“No, nothing at all! Nope. I’m not dating Derek, dad. Not even close.”

“How come? Is there something wrong with him?” 

Stiles gapes. This whole conversation clearly started as a joke, but Stiles legitimately has no idea what’s happening here. Who is he even talking to right now? Did someone replace his father with a pod person and not tell anyone about it? “Of course not. When did I even remotely imply that?”

“Then why are you freaking out about what I just said?”

“I am _not_ freaking out,” Stiles says. Squeaks. Just slightly. And only at the end of the sentence. Though it ends up sounding more like a question than an actual statement of fact. Whatever, he’s fine, he’s cool, it’s cool.

His dad gives him a look, like he’s maybe a bit of an idiot, and takes a seat at the table with his coffee. “Son, don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve spent with Derek over the past couple months. He’s here more than-- uh, anyone else you know.”

“We’re friends, dad. Friends spend time together. Hang out. Do stuff.”

His dad silently raises both his eyebrows at Stiles.

“Seriously, Dad. Why are you reading so much into this?”

“Right. Okay. Well, whatever you say, Stiles,” his dad says with a casual shrug. But then his face sobers and he looks up at Stiles. “I just want you to know that I will support you no matter what. I only want to see you happy. I hope you know that.”

Stiles sighs, but fondness for his dad mixes in with the mortification of this whole conversation, and he feels something content settle in his stomach.

“I do, dad,” Stiles says, swallows the sudden lump in his throat.

Thankfully, at that moment, Derek pulls in the driveway, effectively preventing any further conversation on the topic.

“All right, well Derek’s here now,” Stiles says, a little too quickly. He puts his empty plate on the counter by the sink and grabs his travel mug of coffee. “I don’t know when I’ll be home, so don’t worry about food for me today.”

He’s almost made it out of the kitchen unscathed when his dad calls out his name. Stiles pauses in his hasty retreat to glance back at his dad.

“For what it’s worth, kid, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look genuinely happy. After everything you’ve been through in the past couple years--” ( _Werewolves, kanimas, psychotic hunters, nogitsunes, supernatural hit lists, chimeras, accidental murder, dread doctors, and far too many deaths for any one person to be able to reasonably handle_ ) “--you deserve it. I won’t claim to know the reason why, but whatever -- or whoever -- is making you happy… I’m glad.”

Stiles can’t do anything but nod his thanks silently, the lump in his throat rising back up with a vengeance. If Derek notices anything when Stiles jumps into the passenger seat of his car, he doesn’t say anything.

~*~

They end up looking at three houses and one condo.

Derek drives them to the real estate office where he introduces Stiles to his agent, Nancy Holmes. Stiles manages to bite back a comment about whether she’s related to any Sherlocks, but the way Derek looks at him after makes Stiles think that Derek knew what he was thinking anyway.

Nancy takes them to the condo first. It’s a newer building, with an open floor plan in each unit, which Derek likes. But it’s also in a busier neighborhood, on the opposite side of town from Stiles, and there are lots of young families with pets in the building.

The first house they see is in the same neighborhood as the condo. It’s small and quaint, on a quiet cul-de-sac. The other two houses are on the edge of the city, with large lawns and close access to the forest. Both have neighbors, but the houses are spread further apart than in the heart of the city.

Derek walks through each one of the houses, inspecting every square inch like he knows what he’s looking for. He asks all kinds of questions of Nancy, things that Stiles never would have ever even thought about in the first place, and uses his phone to take endless pictures. He also routinely checks in with Stiles for his opinion on the placement of the stairs, or the layout of the basement, or the size of the bedrooms. Stiles has never seen Derek act so... _competent_ before, and maybe he should be concerned about what it says about him, but he finds it incredibly attractive.

~*~

When Nancy drops them back off at the office, she hands Stiles one of her cards. Which, weird. But Stiles accepts it anyway.

“Let me know if you guys liked any of these places, and we’ll get an offer in,” she says. “Or, if you want to see some other houses, let me know and I’ll set something up for later in the week.”

Derek shakes her hand. “Thanks, Nancy. I really appreciate the help.”

She laughs. “Well, that is my job. But you’re welcome. Also, it was nice to meet you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiles at her, and takes her proffered hand. “You too.”

They walk back to the parking lot in silence, but Derek turns to Stiles as soon as they’re in the car. “Do you want to go for a late lunch? My treat.”

Of course Stiles can never refuse a free meal -- especially not one with Derek -- so he readily agrees. Derek ends up taking them to a little Korean restaurant just outside of Beacon Hills. 

“It used to be one of my family’s favorite restaurants,” Derek explains as they’re pulling into the parking lot. “My parents were good friends with the owners. I haven’t been here in years.”

Stiles is touched that Derek is sharing something so personal with him, and his heart flips in his chest at the soft smile Derek sends his way.

“So, which place did you like the best?” Derek asks, after they’ve been seated at a booth in the corner and their waitress has taken their drink orders.

Stiles shrugs, weighing the options in his mind. “I don’t know. I mean, probably not the condo. It’s really nice, but there’s too many people and too much noise for sensitive werewolf ears, I think.”

Derek snorts. “I want to argue with you on that, but for once you’re actually right.”

“Ha! For once. I’m always right!”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day, Stiles,” Derek says with a smirk. “Did you like any of the houses, though?”

And then apparently, in case Stiles didn’t know it was a serious question, Derek pulls out a folder that contains listing information, layouts, pictures, and the notes he took today, sliding it across the table to Stiles.

Stiles flips through the information in the folder as their waitress brings them their drinks, and then takes their orders, even though it’s not like he’s forgotten everything in the last twenty minutes. It isn’t until she’s left that he finally answers.

“I mean, the two on the outskirts of Beacon Hills are probably more up your alley,” Stiles says. “They both had a huge lot and weren’t as crowded as the places in the city. Though I think you mentioned something about the foundation on one of them being off? I don’t really know much about this stuff.”

Derek nods, watching Stiles like he’s hanging on his every word. “There’s a minor concern with the foundation, but it would have to pass an inspection to sell anyway, so I’m not too worried. I want to know which house you liked the best. Or if you think we should look at more.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter what I like, as long as you’re happy with it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you for your opinion if I didn’t want it,” Derek points out, without actually addressing Stiles’ comment.

And Stiles gets that, but he’s not really sure why Derek’s so insistent on knowing which house Stiles, personally, would pick. It’s not like _he’s_ the one buying it.

“I know. And I’ll tell you. But I don’t think you should base your decision on what I have to say about it.”

Derek huffs, like he’s finally starting to get a little frustrated with this conversation. “I’m not going to buy whatever house you say you liked, _just_ because you liked it, Stiles. But your opinion matters to me, okay?”

It’s almost like something suddenly clicks into place in Stiles’ brain with those words. And everything that’s happened over the course of the day -- maybe even the last few months, if he’s being honest -- has been put into a completely different perspective. Derek doesn’t just want an opinion on the houses. He could get a random opinion from anyone. He wants to know Stiles’ opinion, specifically. Like he wants Stiles to like whatever house he purchases as much as he does.

“Derek,” Stiles says slowly, “Why is my opinion on this so important to you?”

Derek blinks, looks momentarily confused at the question. “Because… because you’re my closest friend in Beacon Hills. And because I’m maybe, sort of assuming you’ll--”

Stiles waits for him to finish that thought. He doesn’t.

“You’re assuming I’ll what?” he prompts, because he’s not stopping now that he knows there’s something there to find.

“I’m assuming that… you’ll be over there. A lot. At my new place.”

Stiles feels his heart rate kick up, and a thrill of excitement flutters in his chest. “Because you want me to be there,” Stiles says carefully, and decides he might as well go for broke. “Because you like me. As more than just a friend.” 

The tips of Derek’s ears instantly turn red, and he runs a hand nervously through his hair, glancing away from Stiles and staring resolutely at the table instead. When he finally speaks, Stiles has to lean closer to hear him.

“Yes.”

Stiles’ face breaks out into a grin, and he feels lighter than he has in a very long time. “Oh my god, you’re so cute,” he says, because it’s true.

And when Derek looks up at him, eyes wide in barely concealed panic -- like he legitimately thinks there’s a possibility that Stiles is going to reject him -- Stiles decides it’s about time that Derek is treated right by someone.

“Come here, you dummy,” Stiles says affectionately, and reaches out to pull Derek closer.

Derek meets him halfway, and their lips finally meet. The kiss is sweet and filled with months of pent-up longing. Derek opens his mouth to Stiles when he tries to deepen the kiss, and Stiles clutches onto him, a soft moan falling out of his mouth as Derek’s fingers gently caress his cheek. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, as far as Stiles is concerned, but they’re both smiling when they pull apart, and Stiles can’t stop staring at Derek.

“We should have been doing that months ago,” Stiles says eventually, still in his kiss-induced stupor, even after their food is dropped off at the table.

But instead of mocking him, Derek just grins, and reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. “We have time now.”

And Stiles can’t argue with that.

~*~

Two weeks later, Stiles is studying for an economics test when his phone buzzes.

He isn’t surprised to see that it’s from Derek, but he _is_ surprised to see that he’s apparently sent Stiles an attachment with no text. Stiles taps to download the file, curious to see what it is that Derek’s sent him, but it all makes sense a few moments later, when the text fully loads, now displaying a picture.

 **From: Derek (8:17)**  
_(image pic0114.jpg downloaded)_  


Stiles grins, shuts his econ textbook and dials Derek’s now familiar number.

He answers on the third ring, and Stiles can just hear the cocky smile in Derek’s voice when he greets him with a warm hello.

It makes Stiles grin in return. “Hey asshole! So, I hear you bought a house?”


End file.
